A Series of Challenges
by Jade4813
Summary: This will be a compilation of short stories that stand independently of each other, written as part of a fic challenge exchange between myself and Sana at DI. Check the first A/N for more info. Rated between K and M each story rating found in the A/N .
1. No Compromise

**A/N: **This is the first of a series of challenges I'll be doing with a friend of mine. She sends me three story titles and I have to pick one and write a story with that title. I then send her three story titles and she has to write a story based off one of those (which won't be posted here, as I won't be writing them).

**This thread will be composed of several short stories which stand independent of each other. This will not be one ongoing multi-chapter fic.**

For this challenge, I was offered the following three prompts:

1) Not Quite a Husband

2) No Compromise

3) Illusions of Love

I decided to follow the second prompt. This particular drabble is **rated K**. Remember that the following stories in this thread will NOT be continuations of this story; all will be independent of each other!

**Challenge 1 | No Compromise**

Brady tapped his pencil against his sheet of paper as he looked around the newsroom. He had a story on a policeman's ball to assign, but all of his reporters were working on other stories. He was just trying to decide which story to put on hold when the elevator doors slid open and Lois came charging into the bullpen, Clark hot on her heels.

"Absolutely not!" she said in a voice that carried easily across the room to his desk. "I already told you, my source is worried about his identity being blown! He said to come alone or he's going to bail on me and I'll never get to the bottom of this!"

Clark sighed in exasperation. "And the fact that it could be dangerous doesn't bother you at all?" He groaned before she could reply, "Don't answer that. Of course it doesn't!"

"Lois!" Brady yelled as he jumped to his feet, the piece of paper with the ball's information on it clenched in his hand. "Kent! I have a story for you!"

She tossed her coat over the back of her chair and spun around to grab the paper out of the editor's hand. "No," she said with finality, shoving it back towards him. "Not doing it."

Brady looked at her in astonishment. "I'm sorry; I'm still your boss, aren't I?" he asked with an ostentatious look towards the nameplate on his desk. "At what point did you get the impression this was a democracy?"

She grinned, not the least bit taken aback by his remark. "The ball's tonight, and I've got a meeting with an informant."

His eyes narrowed on her thoughtfully, trying to determine if she was telling the truth or if she was just trying to get out of a story she didn't want to do. "Big story?" he asked suspiciously.

She smirked with pride. "Huge. Front page. Above the fold. Not to brag, but it may even be Pulitzer material." She paused and her grin spread wider. "Oh, okay. I'll brag."

Brady felt his heart race with excitement at the thought of the Planet getting the exclusive on such a story, but he tried not to let his expression give him away as he turned to Clark. "All right, Clark, I guess you're it," he said, holding out his piece of paper again.

Clark didn't even bother to look at him. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at the woman at the desk across from him. She didn't seem the least bit impressed by his glare; in fact, she pointedly ignored him as she booted up her computer and rummaged through the papers on her desk.

"Can't," Clark said tersely. "I'll be busy. Making sure Lois isn't getting herself killed."

Brady sighed and looked between the two of them. "What part of 'I'm your boss' do you two not understand?"

Clark's eyes darted towards his editor. "You won't get your story if she doesn't live to write it," he pointed out.

It was with a flash of irritation that Brady realized Clark had a point, but he wasn't ready to give up yet. "She says she's got it under control and I'm inclined to believe her. If she wants to go alone –"

Clark snorted. "Of course she says she's got it under control! Out of curiosity, how many times has the Planet's insurance had to pay out in the last two months on something that Lois said was under control?"

"Everyone's a skeptic," Lois muttered under her breath as she jumped to her feet and strode towards the archive room. Clark followed on her heels, arguing the entire way.

Brady looked down at the piece of paper in his hand. Damn it, he had a story, he'd already told two of his reporters to take it, and they'd both blown him off! He was going to get this story assigned if it killed him.

He stormed towards the archive room just as Lois came charging through the door, a folder under her arm, Clark still hot at her heels. "– all the time! Last night, you wanted Indian food; I wanted Chinese. We settled on Italian!"

"That's not exactly what I had in mind," Clark said with a sigh.

"Lane, Kent! One of you two is taking this story! I mean it!" Brady bellowed.

Lois darted a quick glance in his direction, seemingly surprised to find him there. "Can't," she said simply, pushing past him to reach her desk.

"Not a chance," Clark growled. "She's going to get herself killed, and I'm going to stop her!"

"Hah!" Lois cried, slipping into her coat and slinging her purse over her shoulder. "You know, I think it's really cute how you think you can stop me from doing anything it takes to get a story!"

He shook his head. "I don't think I can stop you from putting your life in danger. I can do everything I can to stop you from actually getting killed."

She grinned as Brady spluttered at the realization that two members of his staff so blithely ignored him. "I'm not going to risk my story getting blown just because my boyfriend isn't comfortable with a little risk in life!"

"Seriously, you two! The policeman's ball!" Brady tried again.

They both shook their heads, not even bothering to look at him this time. "I'm not just your boyfriend. I'm your partner. And I'm not going to let you get yourself killed, not even for a front-page headline."

Brady liked the sound of that. Front-page headline. Pulitzer winning front page headline. He lost a few seconds dreaming of accolades coming the paper's way when they broke whatever story Lois had brewing. From the gleam in her eye, he could tell it was going to be good.

Except he was the boss! He was supposed to be handing out the stories! He wasn't supposed to be ignored like this!

Lois stared intently at Clark, either oblivious to or simply concerned with her editor's mounting frustration. Though she looked vaguely annoyed, she sounded faintly bemused when she said as she strode to the elevator bay, "You know I'll just meet with my source without telling you first."

"It won't work," he warned her, throwing a warm smile at her back. "You'll be surprised how good I can be at tracking people down when I want to. And in the past few years, I've gotten very good at learning how to keep an eye on you."

She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Sounds like a challenge."

"Sounds like one of you needs to take this story I've told you both to take! Several times now!" Brady bellowed, waving his piece of paper in the air as he trailed after them.

"If you want to think of it as a challenge, you can," Clark said evenly, completely ignoring Brady as he followed Lois onto the elevator. The doors slid shut as he continued, "It won't change anything."

Brady's jaw hung open as he stared at the gold paneled elevator doors in front of him. This was the fifth time in two months that he'd tried to assign Lois a story and she'd brushed him off, convinced she knew better. Of course, it was particularly galling to find that in each of those five cases, she'd been right. The story she (and typically Clark) brought in was much bigger than the one he'd been trying to assign.

But still. He was supposed to be their boss!

One of these days, their story wasn't going to pan out and then he'd…well, he wouldn't fire either of them. They were just too damn good, and he knew it. But they didn't have to know that he knew it, and so at least he could keep a little leverage over them, even if it had to be with a bluff.

"Ron!" he bellowed, charging towards his desk, stopping only long enough to slap his piece of paper on the reporter in question's desk. "Congratulations! The story's yours!"

"But I –" Ron tried to protest.

"I don't want to hear it," Brady snapped, flinging himself into his chair. With a heavy sigh, he muttered darkly to himself, "I've still got to be the boss of someone around here!"


	2. Slow Heat

**A/N:** This one is rated **R - NC-17**.

**Challenge 2 | Slow Heat**

"What's going on here?" Clark asked in amusement as he walked into his kitchen – which looked well on its way to being declared a federal disaster area.

Lois snarled, but he knew his question hadn't provoked her frustration. She had a spatula in one hand, brandished like a weapon, and was using it to wage war against a pot on the stove. From what Clark could tell, the pot was winning.

"Nonstick pan my ass!" Lois bellowed in the way of a war cry.

Stepping quickly behind her, Clark grabbed the hand in which she wielded the spatula. "Okay, easy there, Lois. I think you've won."

Arching her neck to look at him over her shoulder, she fumed, "I haven't won!" she contradicted him. "I think it's going to take a chisel to get this stuff off!"

Looking over her shoulder, he stared at the blackened chocolate adhered to the pot. "What were you trying do, anyway?" he asked with a slight confused frown. The pot was probably going to be a complete loss. Staring at the sad state of the spatula, he realized the pan wasn't the only thing to be going in the trash at the end of the evening.

Lois sighed and jerked her chin towards a bottle chilling in an ice bucket on the counter. "Well, we never had a chance to have champagne and strawberries that you'd ordered, so I thought we could have a weekend away here at the farm. But chocolate covered strawberries are a pain in the ass to make!"

Clark chuckled, both amused and touched at her intentions. He released her hand, now that he was fairly certain the spatula no longer posed a danger to innocent pieces of cookware, but he didn't step away."Let me guess…you were trying to heat the chocolate too quickly."

She shrugged, tossing the spatula in the sink. "There is no such thing as heating something 'too quickly.' And, anyway, you know me, Smallville. I get impatient."

"Let's try this again," he suggested as he grabbed a fresh pot from a lower cabinet and a glass bowl from a shelf. Then he covered the bottom of the pan with water and put it over a low heat.

Lois looked distinctly bored when she watched him throw some chunks of chocolate in the bowl. "Okay, well, it looks like you've got this covered." she said as she tried to scoot away from the stove. "I've got a copy of Guitar Hero: Van Halen I've been meaning to try out…"

Clark rested his hands on the stove, bracing her between his arms. Shaking his head, he leaned into her until her eyes widened and her gaze dropped to his lips. Then he murmured, "Oh, no you don't. I think it's time for you to learn that faster isn't always better."

She chuckled, a breathy sound, and he watched her tongue flick against lips gone suddenly dry. "You really think you have it in you to teach me a thing or two, Smallville?" she asked, arching an eyebrow in challenge.

Culinary arts were the last thing on his mind, but he couldn't let her challenge go unanswered. Schooling his features into a bland expression, he murmured softy, "Let's see, shall we?" Then he rested his hands on her hips and turned her around.

He stared at the curve of her neck when she bowed her head and stared at the contraption he was putting together on the stove. "You know, this will take forever if you don't turn up the heat."

"That's the point," he murmured into her ear, fighting a smile when he felt her shiver. "Some things are better when you take your time." As he spoke, he rested a hand on her hip. She sucked in a sharp breath and shot him a quick look over his shoulder, but he kept his expression even. It was hard to bite back his smile as he added innocently. "Otherwise, it might burn."

Her eyes narrowed at him, and she said dubiously, "Right." She stared at him suspiciously for another moment and then turned her attention back to the stove. There was no discernible change in the state of the chocolate. "We're going to be at this all night, you know," she groused.

"I hope so," he murmured, catching himself too late to stop the words from coming out of his mouth. This time, he didn't need to feign innocence; she didn't look back at him, though she stiffened slightly in his arms. Ah, well. He'd planned on teasing her with his innocent act for a while longer, but he decided this was better. He was tired of hiding how much he wanted her.

"Grab a spoon," he breathed, sliding his hand from her hip to her stomach, to pull her against him. Her hair tickled his cheek as he nuzzled her neck. "You don't want it to burn."

She swallowed heavily. "I-it's not melting," she pointed out, reaching into the utensil drawer.

He smiled against the curve of her shoulder. "It will," he promised. Keeping her pressed tightly against him, he covered her hand with his own, trapping the spoon in her grip. "Stir slowly."

He could feel her hand tremble in his as she brought it to the bowl. The chocolate was growing soft, so he guided her hand as together they stirred the chocolate with gentle strokes. It would take several more minutes for the chocolate to fully melt and grow smooth.

Time he was certainly not going to spend thinking about some damn chocolate. Lois felt so good in his arms. Keeping his palm pressed against her stomach, he slid his fingertips under the line of her shirt, caressing the soft skin just above the line of her jeans.

"C-Clark," she sighed, leaning back against him. "What are we doing here?"

He chuckled, brushing his lips against the pulse beating below the line of her jaw. "Well, you're cooking. And I'm teaching you a thing or two about taking it slow."

She moaned when his hand slid under her t-shirt. Her skin was warm against his palm as he stroked her stomach, her sides, his thumb tracing the underwire of her bra. "I hate going slow."

"I know," he replied in a combination of amusement and desire as he slipped open the button to her jeans. He wanted to put his hands on her, stroke every inch of her body. But even has his hand loosened around hers, he realized that they'd stopped stirring the chocolate. For some perverse reason, he was determined to continue teasing her. To tease them both, really, as he denied himself the pleasure of touching her with both hands and forced himself to continue stirring.

Clark slid down the zipper to her jeans, his knuckles parting the fabric as his fingertips continued with their exploration of her body. Her skin was so soft, but a brush against the line of her panties and he was surprised to fell the coarseness of the material. Silk wrapped in lace. He wondered what color her underwear was. He could easily sneak a peek and solve the mystery, but he didn't. Instead, he closed his eyes and let himself imagine – draw a picture of her in his mind, clad in nothing but black lace. Or blue. Or perhaps red.

She dropped her hand to her jeans and started to slide them over her hips, but he grabbed her wrist and stopped her. "This is about taking it slow. Remember?"

"This is about driving me insane is more like it," she grumbled under her breath.

"Nobody said they were mutually exclusive," he teased, sliding his hand under her shirt again. But instead of slipping his fingers under her jeans, to explore the intriguing mystery of her underwear, he slid his hand upward instead. Would her breasts be similarly clad in lace?

The fabric of her bra was coarse, and he traced his fingers over the scalloped edge along the top. Pushing the fabric down, he cupped her breast in his palm. He heard her breath catch in her throat when he brushed the pad of his thumb against her nipple, feeling it bead under his touch.

"Is it done yet?" she asked in a throaty moan as she turned in his arms.

It took him a moment to realize that she was referring to the chocolate, and he looked into the bowl to see that it had melted, its texture smooth. Grabbing a strawberry out of the bowl on the counter, he dipped it into the chocolate and brought it to her lips. "You tell me," he murmured.

His gaze was locked on her mouth as her lips parted, her tongue pressing into the bottom curve of the strawberry as he placed it between her teeth. As she bit into the strawberry, her lips closed around the sweet fruit, sucking softly to catch every drop of juice.

Jesus. And he thought he'd been hard already.

Lois had eaten the strawberry, but Clark was the one who moaned in pleasure as he watched her enjoy her treat. With trembling fingers, he reached for the strawberries again, but she stopped him. "I'm not going to enjoy these alone," she pointed out.

He'd expected her to reach for the strawberries, but she dipped her finger into the bowl of warmed chocolate and brought it to his mouth. He sucked her finger between his lips, sucking the sweet chocolate from her flesh, his tongue darting into the small crevice beneath her fingernail. Lois moaned when he scraped her skin with his teeth, gently trapping her finger in his mouth.

Clark braced her waist in his hands and lifted her easily, turning to perch her on the edge of the kitchen island. Her legs fell open, and he stepped between her thighs. Her shirt caught on his wrists when he slid his palms along the side of her breasts to the sensitive skin on the underside of her bicep as she lifted her arms over her head so he could pull off her shirt. "Are we done with our lesson about taking it slow?" she teased, her eyes shining with amusement and desire.

"Cooking is all about timing," he growled in a pained voice, his eyes dropping to her bra. Purple and black. Her bra was purple and black lace. While he concentrated on memorizing the sight of her, she leaned her weight back against her elbows and lifted her hips so he could pull her pants down and off, to toss them aside. Then she was spread out in front of him, and he lifted her legs over his shoulders.

He bent his neck and kissed the inside of her thigh, scraping her sensitive skin gently with his teeth when she let out a soft squeal of surprise. While he kissed the inside of one thigh, he ran his palm along the inside of the other until he reached the line of her underwear. She was damp; he could feel her through her panties as he stroked her with his fingertips. When her low moans changed to ragged gasps of pleasure, he moved her underwear aside and slid his fingers underneath.

He stroked her soft folds with his fingers and then, when her breath caught in her throat and she arched away from the cold surface of the kitchen island, he slid two fingers inside of her. She cried his name aloud, her hands coming down on his shoulders, clenching the fabric of his shirt.

Clark plunged his fingers inside of her over and over as her cries grew louder and more frantic. When her hips started to buck off the counter, he pulled his fingers away. Lois let out a soft cry of protest, which broke off into a shuddering cry of pleasure when he bowed his neck and pressed his mouth against her, stroking her with his tongue.

Her hips bucked, and he had to hold her still with his hands to keep her from hurting herself as he swirled his tongue inside of her. The tip of his tongue flicked against the nub of her clit, and she shrieked and came apart beneath his mouth.

Clark straightened as Lois lifted her weight onto her arms and smiled wickedly down at him, but his smile was infinitely more pained as he lifted her off the counter and placed her on her feet. He had no doubt that she recognized the state he was in, because she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her hips against his.

He'd prolonged his own torture long enough. Cupping the curve of her rear, he lifted her against him. When she wrapped her legs around his hips and pressed herself against him, he grunted softly in desire.

While he carried her towards the couch in the living room, she nibbled on his earlobe. "You know," she purred suggestively, her voice a husky rumble, "If I'd known cooking lessons were going to be this much fun, I'd have suggested you give me one a lot sooner."


	3. Ain't Too Proud to Beg

**A/N:** This one is also not for the young or faint of heart. And my friend Sana's totally to blame for this one. She gave me the idea for _Seducing the Man of Steel_ but since I think this kind of torture would have damn near killed Clark in that fic, I brought it here instead. (She did give me the perfect prompt, after all!)

This drabble is **rated M**.

**Challenge 3 | Ain't Too Proud to Beg**

"No peeking!" Lois chastised Clark with a distrustful glance out of the corner of her eye. The blindfold appeared to still be in place, but with Clark, that didn't really mean much.

He snorted. "You're the one who can't stand surprises," he reminded her. "And you can stop waving your hand in front of my face. I'm not peeking."

Her hand froze in mid-air. "If you're not peeking, how do you know I'm waving my hand in front of your face?" she asked suspiciously.

"You almost took me out with that last pass," he pointed out. "Am I going to get my present any day now?"

Though she knew he couldn't see her, she rolled her eyes at him. "Okay, smart aleck. It's right in here." Taking him by the hand, she guided him carefully through the doorway and led him to a nearby chair. Scooting behind its high back, she placed her hands on Clark's shoulders and guided him into the seat with a firm tug.

Leaning over his shoulder, she whispered, "Do you trust me?"

A muscle tightened in his jaw and she anticipated his kiss before he could turn his head and steal it from her lips. Drawing back out of his reach, she waited for his response. "Of course," he said readily.

"Good!" With that affirmation (not that it had ever been in doubt), she dropped to her knees and grabbed his elbows, pulling his hands behind the back of the chair. Then, grabbing the two ends of the silk tie she'd knotted in place earlier in the day, she looped the ends around his wrists. With quick, efficient movements, she tied them tight, holding him in place.

"Lois, what are you doing?" he asked in confusion as he flexed against his restraints.

She grabbed his hands to stop him from tearing through his ties. "It's all part of the surprise. Trust me." As she knew he would, he relaxed at her words, shifting only slightly in his chair as he waited to see what she had in store for him. "Give me just a second."

Leaving Clark to wonder what she was after, she jumped to her feet and raced to the closet, where she changed quickly into the outfit she'd prepared earlier in the day – complete with the three strands of ribbon that were crucial to her plan. Then she pulled her hair back into a clip, slipped on a pair of high red boots, and slid a pair of aviator sunglasses onto her nose.

"You ready?" she asked, picking up the remote for the stereo and turning it on. Firehouse's "You're Too Bad" started to play. She was a girl who preferred the classics, after all.

Clark's eyebrows arched over his blindfold when the song began to play. No doubt, he'd expected something soft and romantic. But "romantic" wasn't what she had in mind. She smirked when she assessed his body language and saw that he looked intrigued but generally relaxed. That wouldn't last much longer if she had anything to say about it.

In a smooth motion, she tore off his blindfold and stepped back, hooking her arm around the tension pole she'd installed in the room earlier in the day, for just this occasion. Concentrating on the beat of the song, Lois hooked her leg around the pole, spinning around it as she danced.

"Lois, what is this?" Clark asked, gulping when she gripped the pole and arched her back, lifting her leg so he could get a good look at her thigh under the line of her skirt.

She grinned and turned so her back was facing him. With the pole pressed against her spine, she lifted her hands over her head and slowly dropped into a shallow squat, letting the friction of the pole pull up the back of her skirt to tease the sparkled red bikini bottom she wore beneath. "Your present," she said, though she figured that was self-explanatory. "I thought you might like it."

Rising to her feet, she turned so she could keep her eyes locked on his face as she gyrated her hips, bending her knees with her legs spread wide around the pole. "I do," he said thickly. She grinned and spun around. Tilting her head forward, she grinned at him over her aviator glasses and fiddled with the knot at the front of the white dress shirt she wore over her bikini top. She'd intentionally put on one of Clark's shirts, knowing the sight of her in them turned him on.

Her hips swayed as she toyed with the knot in her shirt with one hand, caressing her bare stomach with the fingertips of the other. She strutted towards him, letting her hips sway provocatively to the music as she approached. "You want me to take something off?" she purred, coming to a halt in front of him.

His eyes were locked on her hands; he barely blinked as he waited to see what she would do. She didn't move, so he said, "Yes." Lois didn't think she'd ever heard anything sexier than the sound of his voice when it was thick with desire.

"You'll have to ask nicely," she chastised him, running her hands up her breasts to her shoulders and neck as she continued to dance.

His gaze was hot, his breath rapid and shallow as he followed the path of her fingers. "Please," he pleaded. He wasn't normally the type to beg, but for her, he would. For her, he would do anything.

She smiled at his capitulation. She knew he didn't have to give in; he could easily tear through the silk of his tie and grab onto her. But she'd put a lot of work and effort into this game she wanted to play, and he was torturing himself – letting her torture him – by allowing her to tease him. That thought alone was more erotic than anything she was doing with her hands. "What do you want me to take off?" she taunted him, resting her hands on his shoulders and stepping forward so that she was standing with his legs between hers.

His gaze fell to the knot in her shirt; she knew he could cheat, look through the fabric of her outfit, but she also knew he wouldn't spoil her fun by doing so. "Your shirt," he said after a moment. He leaned forward and tried to kiss the bare skin so tantalizingly close to his face, but she backed away before he could make contact. This was his present, but she was running the show. She had everything planned; she didn't want to rush it.

"Hmmm," Lois hummed musingly. "Maybe. You might get lucky." She dropped her right hand to her thigh and swept it up to her hip, lifting the bottom of her skirt to reveal a ribbon poking out from under her bikini shorts. "Let's find out what I'm going to take off first," she said, resting her foot on the seat of his chair, next to his leg. Her hip was directly in his line of sight. When he didn't immediately move, she said, "Pull it out."

With his hands tied behind his back, there was only one way for him to do so. She rotated her hip to bring it closer to his mouth as he leaned forward. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her bare skin and the scrape of his teeth as he fumbled for the ribbon. Finally catching a hold of it between his teeth, he slowly drew back, pulling it free of her clothing.

Lois grabbed it out of his mouth and glanced at the black print on the red fabric. "Aww…no luck, Smallville. Just my sunglasses," she said, yanking them off and tossing them onto the bed. "Better luck next time."

Clark groaned as she backed away and started to dance again. Lifting her hands over her head, she gripped the pole hard and then jumped, wrapping her legs around the metal bar as she twirled around it. Falling to her feet again, she hooked her leg behind the pole and arched her back, dropping her head so she could look at him in the chair. She could see him pull anxiously against his ties, his thighs flexing as he tried to rise to his feet, but he stilled when he saw the stern look she threw him.

Straightening, she kept her back to him as she raised her hands to hair clip on the back of her head. Pulling it off, she tossed it aside as her hair cascaded down her shoulders. Whirling to face him again, she kept her hands above her head as she gyrated against the pole. She lost herself in the beat, turning her head away from him so it would appear she was ignoring him completely. However, she watched him closely out of the corner of her eye, fighting a smile when she saw him shift uncomfortably in his chair.

He groaned something unintelligible, and she turned to look at him, her lips curved into a wicked smile. With her eyes wide, she asked innocently, "You want something, Clark?"

He looked both frustrated and aroused by her taunting. Squirming in his chair, he watched the thrust of her hips and begged, "Please…let me try again."

Biting the corner of her lower lip, she strutted forward again. "Okay…since you said please," she purred. Resting her hands on his shoulders, she straddled his lap again. This time, however, she sank onto his lap, looping her hands around his neck. Shrugging her hair off her shoulders, she arched her back and lifted her weight onto her heels, so that her breasts were close to his face. "Let's see if you get luckier this time," she teased.

This time, Clark took the opportunity to tease her back. Ducking his head, he licked the curve of her bikini top, where it peeked out from under the white dress shirt she wore. She hissed in pleasure at the touch of his lips against her skin, but she didn't move away. "You're stalling," she moaned on a shaky breath.

"Just making sure I do this right," he growled against her skin. Biting the folds of her shirt, he tugged them gently aside to give him easier access to the piece of ribbon poking out from under the edge of the bikini. He had to fumble with it for a few seconds, his lips, tongue, and teeth scraping tantalizingly against her skin, before he could grip the fabric between his teeth and pull it out.

Lois reached for it, but he opened his mouth and let it fall to his lap before she could grab it. She looked at him in affront, and he threw her an unrepentant grin. "Oops," he said insincerely.

"You're going to pay for that," she retorted, glancing down at the fabric in his lap as she considered her options. Stepping back, she nudged his legs apart and scooted between his thighs. Then she dropped to her knees in front of him, trailing her hands down his chest as she sank to the ground. Keeping her eyes locked on his face, she braced her palms on his thighs and leaned forward. It was her turn to torment him with her mouth as she fumbled for the piece of ribbon. She could feel his erection through his trousers when she nuzzled the fabric, searching for a scrap of red satin.

"Oh, god…Lois," he moaned, and she could feel him tremble under her hands. "Please…let me…"

She shook her head, cutting off his plea. Getting a hold of the red ribbon, she rose to her feet with it clenched between her teeth. Taking it from between her lips, she smirked down at him. "Where were we?" she asked as nonchalantly as she could manage, though her breathing was ragged. Glancing at the black text, she read, "My skirt." His eyes fell to the item of clothing in question, and he licked his lips in an unconscious gesture as he waited to see what she would do.

Her playlist had been cycling through while she danced, and another one came on at just this moment. Lois danced to its beat, swiveling her hips in front of him. Hooking her thumbs under the line of her skirt, she slowly pushed it down her hips. His gaze was locked intently as her red bikini shorts were revealed. When the skirt fell to the ground, he stared at her long, bare legs and moaned in agony and desire.

Hooking her skirt with the toe of her boot, she kicked it towards Clark. The skirt hit his chest and fell into his lap, and Lois spun around and returned to the pole. Scaling the metal rod by several feet, she hooked her thighs around the pole. Squeezing tightly with her legs, she released her hands and allowed her torso to drop, her hair falling towards the floor. Hooking her hands behind her back, she held tight to the pole as she loosened her thighs, spreading her legs wide.

She'd been practicing this move for a while, but she knew she could only sustain it for a few seconds before she would fall. Still, the expression on his face was worth the hours of practice. Wrapping her legs around the pole again, she pulled herself up and twirled around until her feet hit the ground.

Her back was to Clark and she ran her hands down the pole until she was able to look at him through her spread legs. Sliding her legs wider apart, she placed her head on the floor and braced her hand on either side to support her weight. Kicking her feet towards the ceiling, she clenched the pole between her thighs and sat up. "You want to help me take off my shirt?" she teased.

"Yes," he growled through clenched teeth. "Yes, please." She strutted towards him one last time and his hands flexed against the silk of his tie. When she saw that it was about to tear, she stopped and stared at him until he willed himself to relax. She'd put a lot of effort into this game she was playing; she wouldn't let him spoil her fun now that they were almost at the end.

Standing next to his chair, she threw her right leg over his lap so that he was staring at the inside of her thigh, where the last ribbon poked out from under her bikini bottom. The wood of the chair creaked and almost broke as Clark dove forward. He started by kissing the tender skin of her inner thigh, and then he licked the path along the edge of her panty line. Her knees went weak at his touch, and she had to brace her hands on his shoulders to keep from falling when he nipped her sensitive flesh with his teeth.

Lois panted his name and he moaned as he grabbed hold of the last ribbon and pulled it free, but this time, she didn't bother to look at the writing before he dropped the strip of fabric into his lap and tilted his head back to stare up at her with a heated gaze. Instead, she loosened the knot in her shirt and straddled his lap again. His breath came in ragged pants as he dove for the knotted fabric, yanking it open with his teeth. She let out a shaky chuckle as she shrugged out of the shirt and tossed it aside, and then she hooked her hands around his neck and continued to dance in his lap, her hips bucking against his. He hissed out a sharp breath as she writhed against him. "What do you want now?" she purred in his ear, arching against him.

"I want to touch you," he growled, clenching and unclenching his fists as he tried to hold on to the last threads of his self-control. "Lois, let me…please, let me touch you."

"Not quite yet," she murmured. Standing, she spun around and then sat in his lap again, scooting back until she was pressed against his erection. Lifting her hands to her neck, she held her hair out of the way.

He didn't need her to tell him what to do. He bent his neck and untied the knot of her bikini top with his teeth, almost tearing the fabric when he gave it a swift tug. The cords slid down her arms, but she crossed her arms across her chest, holding the bra in place as she stood and turned.

"All right, Clark," she purred, taking two steps back. "You can touch me n –"

She didn't even get the rest of the words out before there was the sound of tearing fabric and Clark scooped her roughly into his arms. Her bikini top fell as he whirled and tossed her onto the bed, coming down hard on top of her.

She laughed in his ear, the teasing sound breaking off into a low moan when he ran his hands down her body and she wrapped her legs around his hips. "Did you like your anniversary gift?"

He'd been licking the side of her neck, but he pulled away so he could throw her a wicked smile of his own. "Mmm," he moaned in agreement. "Are you ready for yours?"

"God yes," she gasped, throwing her head back as he slid his hand between them, his fingers diving under the fabric of her bikini bottoms.

He chuckled and scooted down so he could suck her nipple into his mouth. "Good," he breathed against her skin, causing her to shudder against his mouth. "It's my turn to make you beg."


	4. Fly Me to the Moon

A couple of weeks ago - shortly after Sana sent my her last drabble, I got over a cold, and I finally stopped traveling - someone posed the question, "Why shouldn't Superman move on after Lois dies? Lots of people do, when their loved one passes away. Why should Superman be any different?"

"He's different because it's different. Clois isn't just any other love story; it's THE love story," I thought to myself. And then I set out to write a drabble that explained why.

Which came to a bit of a dilemma as I had two ideas I loved equally as much. I wrote them both and sent them off to my fellow fic challenger. As this challenge is for her, I wrote the one she likes best. However, the story **Fly Me to the Moon - The Alternate Version** will be posted separately. I think it actually does a bit better at accomplishing what had inspired my inclination to write this story to begin with.

Anyway, here we go!

**Challenge 4 | Fly Me to the Moon**

"You can go on in," the nurse said in an undertone. "She's resting, but we told her you were coming today." Pressing a pile of file folders against her chest, she paused at the door and looked back over her shoulder at them. Dropping her voice, she warned, "I'm not sure how she'll be. I'm afraid she's been having more off days lately."

"We understand," the woman with long brown hair said sympathetically as the nurse threw open the door and gestured them inside, closing it behind them.

The old woman was seated in a rocking chair facing the window, her tired eyes gazing out at the hospital gardens. She didn't move or give any indication she was aware that she had company, even when her companions approached her chair.

"Mrs. Lane-Kent?" the young woman said as she rounded the chair to move into view. Hazel eyes flickered towards her but then returned to the window again. The young woman continued, "My name is Sonia Jackson. We talked the other day?" A flicker of confusion crossed the old woman's face. "This is my partner, Peter Wright. We're here to interview you." Lois grunted, an inarticulate and unenthusiastic greeting.

A long silence stretched as the young duo exchanged a glance and tried to decide how to continue. Lois didn't speak. Rather, she started to fiddle with the sweater swung over her shoulders, trying to pull it closed. It had snagged on the back of the chair, so Peter stepped forward and freed it. As he leaned to help her, he tried again, saying gently, "We're here because, as you know, Lois Lane and Clark Kent are legendary names in the world of journalism. We'd like to write a story about the two of you. I think people would really love to know more about the relationship that went on behind the bylines."

Lois lifted her eyes to his, and for the first time, there was a spark of amusement there. "Oh, I know. You think after all this time, I can't recognize a reporter on the trail of a story?" she joked, her voice tremulous with age but still firm. "I can also tell that neither of you are very excited about this assignment; probably think there are more important stories you could be breaking." When she saw them exchange a guilty look, she shook her head, and smiled as though she had a secret. "No, it's okay. I understand. I would have been the exact same way."

Peter smiled in response and straightened, and she leaned back in her chair. As they took seats nearby, Lois's gaze drifted back to the window, but this time, they knew she wasn't ignoring them. Her eyes sparkled with life and a small smile curved her lips, though her gaze was distant as she recalled fond memories.

"So you want to know about my relationship with Clark," she mused absently, almost as if she was speaking to herself. She dropped her hand to her lap, to run fingers gnarled with age along the string of pearls lying across her knee.

For a long moment, it seemed she wouldn't say anything further, so Sonia prompted, "How did the two of you meet?"

Lois threw back her head and cackled. Her eyes were dancing merrily as she grinned at the young woman. "I found him naked in a field, actually." Sonia's arched eyebrows betrayed her skepticism, and Lois hooted with laughter again. "Oh, I may be old, and my memory might not be as good as it once was, but I'm not senile. And trust me, it would take a lot to forget something like that! I'm sure you've seen pictures, so you should know my husband was very good looking!"

Sonia smiled uncertainly, as if she still wasn't sure whether or not to believe this story. "What happened?" she asked.

Lois shrugged, the method in which she'd found him clearly not interesting her nearly so much as the state she'd found him in. "Oh, he'd been in an accident. Struck by lightning; didn't remember a thing. At least that's what he said."

Pulling out a pad of paper and a pencil, Sonia kept her voice noncommittal as she asked, "But that's not what really happened?"

Curving her hands around the arms of her chair, Lois began to rock gently, and Sonia wondered if she had deliberately misunderstood the question when she replied flippantly, "Oh, I'm sure he didn't remember everything, but he never forgot that he was naked when we first met." With a wistful sigh, she added, "I certainly made sure he'd never live that down." Then, glancing at Sonia, she nodded towards a nearby bookcase. "Hand me photo album on the bottom shelf."

Sonia gasped. "You have a picture of it?" she asked incredulously.

This struck Lois as funny, because she laughed again. "Oh, I wish, believe me!" Sonia handed it over, and Lois laid it lovingly on her lap, stroking its edges with ancient hands. However, Sonia and Peter couldn't help but notice that the deep lines in her face smoothed out as she smiled down at the well-loved photo album and pulled it open. In the few minutes that they'd known her, they'd never seen her look more alive than she did as she gazed at those reminders of her past. "I guess I should start at the beginning, if you two want the full picture for your story," she began.

As the young couple scooted closer, Lois ran her hand down the glossy page and started to talk, telling them stories of her life with Clark. Sonia had her pad of paper on her lap, but it was fortunate that Peter had thought to bring a tape recorder, because as Lois talked, the two of them got too lost in the stories to take sufficient notes.

In page after page of the photo album, Lois had preserved the history of Clark Kent and Lois Lane. There were pictures of the two of them in high school, with Clark dressed in a football uniform, his helmet swinging casually by his side as he walked next with her across the field. Her hair was pulled up into a long pony-tail, and she was smirking over at him.

There were pictures of her with his family, Jonathan and Martha Kent. She talked about her time living with them and the way they'd welcomed her into their family long before she and Clark had fallen in love. Her face grew sad as she talked about Jonathan Kent's death and the toll the loss had taken on Clark. She also talked about her relationship with Martha – first as her Chief of Staff, then as her friend, and finally as her daughter-in-law. The pearls in her lap had originally been Martha's, Lois admitted, given to her as a gift at their wedding – the "something old" she'd worn down the aisle. She didn't recount her tales in a linear fashion but rather shared them as they came to mind. When she talked of Martha's death, they could sense the pain she'd felt when she'd wished the older woman goodbye.

With each story, she painted a picture for her companions; they almost felt they were right there with her and Clark in Smallville, Kansas as it had been once upon a time. But perhaps that was because she was so clearly there, herself. This was her reality – not her day-to-day living in a hospital as she watched her life slip away but in those moments of her youth, when she'd truly known what it felt like to be alive. Tomorrow, she might not remember this conversation; it might fade from her mind as if it had never been. But she would ever forget these precious memories of the life she'd spent with the man she'd loved.

They grinned when she talked about Clark's first day at the Planet, showing up in a plaid shirt with a backpack slung over his shoulder. How she'd decided to take him under her wing, stealing a co-workers clothes and shoving Clark bodily into a nearby phone booth as she demanded he change. Then they laughed when she regaled them with tales of their adventures together, as partners at the paper. It was quite clear that Lois had always been the reckless one, prone to jumping into the path of danger, and Clark had spent most of his time trying to reign in her impulsive nature enough to keep her from getting killed. She painted the picture of the Planet so well that, though they hadn't known him, their hearts twisted when Lois mourned the death of Perry White, the man who had seen something special in her work and had quickly come to mean a great deal to her.

They grew quiet when Lois told them about how she and Clark had fallen in love. Their first kiss, in the Daily Planet bullpen. Their first date, a quick cup of coffee grabbed when they snuck away from work. The first time he told her he loved her, after he'd walked her home late one night after a date (date thirty-two, she informed them with surprising certainty). The little ways that, over time, he'd stolen her heart and saved both her life and her sanity.

She told them about the night Clark proposed to her, his voice trembling with emotion as he knelt before her and asked her to be his wife. Their wedding, which had been small – only attended by friends and family. For a time, she lost herself as she stared at a picture of the newlyweds, their arms wrapped around each other as they forgot about the world around them and lost themselves in their first kiss as man and wife.

Now that Lois had begun to talk about the love she'd shared with Clark, it seemed she couldn't stop as story after story spilled out. The nurse brought them lunch and she barely touched it as she told her companions about the small details that made up their lives together. She talked about the endless hours they spent working together on stories – or just sitting up late on the balcony of their first apartment, staring out at the city lights as they talked about everything or about nothing at all. The mornings Clark surprised her with a maple donut and a cup of coffee in bed. The way he would sling his coat over her shoulders when she was cold, or how he would rest his hand gently upon the small of her back as he led her into a room. The way he would kiss her goodnight, even if they were in the middle of a fight and she was furious with him. The way he told her he loved her every single day, without fail.

Lois had talked for hours about loving Clark when it came time to talk about losing him. She could barely speak of his death, of the heart condition that had taken him from her. Her eyes glazed over with sorrow and pain, she bowed her head and closed the photo album, pressing it to her chest. Her voice thick with emotion, she could only talk about those last few minutes they'd had together, when she'd held him in her arms as he whispered he loved her. And then how she'd kissed him goodbye. As she talked, she began to fade; in the memory of losing him, she lost herself once more, and they watched as her mind slipped away again. Her eyes grew dim once more, the animation left her face. She remembered her loss, still felt the pain of it, but in her mind she was fifty years younger, still thrilling in the love she and her husband shared.

When the nurse came in to tell them that visiting hours were over, Peter reached over and grabbed the tape recorder, shutting it off, as he and Sonia stood. "Thank you for speaking with us," he said softly.

"If you don't mind, we'd like to come back," Sonia said in a similar tone. "Just…to talk some more, if you want."

Lois didn't respond as she stared out the window, her eyes hazy and unfocused again. However, when they were almost to the door, she asked, "Could you stay for a minute, Sonia?"

Sonia and Peter exchanged glances, and then he left. She turned back to the chair. "Yes? Is there something you need, Mrs. Lane-Kent?"

"If you two are going to write a book about me, I think there's something you'll want to see. There's a notebook in my dresser drawer. Would you mind grabbing it for me?" Sonia did so, but when she tried to hand it over, Lois shook her head. "Oh, no. You keep it. Clark and I agreed that we'd give it to someone when the time was right." At her companion's questioning look, she explained, "If you want to know the truth about what it was like to love Clark, it's all in there. Now, I know you have to go, but before you do, could you help me get ready? Clark's coming soon to pick me up for a date, and I want to look my best for him."

Sonia slipped the journal in her bag and looked at the woman in the rocker with a mixture of sympathy and pity, uncertain whether to hurt her by reminding her of Clark's death. After a moment, she decided to leave her the comfort of the fantasy her confused mind had built in its old age. She forced a smile. "Of course." Nodding at the pearls still resting on Lois's knee, she asked, "Do you want me to get those for you?"

Lois nodded and looked up at Sonia with a grateful smile. "Oh, thank you. The clasp is so small, it's hard for me to fasten. I'm afraid there isn't much of me that works as well as it used to." Once Sonia had fastened the pearls around her neck and helped Lois primp her hair, the elderly woman sat back in her chair with a satisfied smile. "Well? Do I look ready for my date?"

Sonia smiled softly. "I'm sure he'll love it," she said sadly. Then, with one more sympathetic look at the woman who had never moved on from the loss of the man she loved, Sonia walked out the door, the journal in her bag temporarily forgotten.

With a smile on her face at the thought of the surprise in store for the young couple when they read the journal she and Clark had written years before in preparation for this moment, Lois rocked gently in her chair. Time passed, but she took no note of it as she waited. The sun had set and Lois started to drift off to sleep when she heard a sound and her eyes opened again.

He was standing in front of her, his hair peppered with gray, his face lined with age. But he was still undeniably handsome. "Good evening, Lois."

"I was waiting for you," she said softly. "I knew you would come."

He knelt before her. "I promised I would."

The floor creaked softly as she rocked back and forth gently in her chair. The image before her blurred as she blinked away the tears in her eyes and threw him a shaky smile. "I'm sorry you had to wait so long," she whispered.

Clark smiled. "I told you I would wait for you. I'd wait for you forever." He stood and held his hand out to her. "You ready?" he asked with a quirk of his eyebrows.

She didn't even have to stop and think. "Oh, yes," she breathed as she placed her hand in his. With an exultant grin, she rose to her feet with an ease that had eluded her for years.

As she rose, he bowed his head and pressed his lips against hers; her eyes fluttered closed as she tucked herself against his body. It had been too long since the two of them had been together like this, but the embrace was still achingly familiar.

Once the kiss broke off, Lois pressed her cheek against her chest, her eyes drifting towards the mirror. She saw herself as she had once been – her face unmarked by age, her hair long and thick, untouched with gray. Clark was similarly changed. He was as young and strong as he'd been on the night that they'd met.

Clark noticed her distraction; their eyes met in the reflection. "You were always beautiful to me, Lois," he murmured, responding to the thought she hadn't spoken aloud.

Tilting her head back, she stared into his eyes and lifted her fingers to his face, sweeping her thumbs across his cheekbones. The last time they'd been together, he'd been thin, his face pale and wan, the skin tight across his bones as he'd lain on a crystal slab and screamed in pain. Kryptonite poisoning hadn't just taken him from her; it had done so in the cruelest way possible.

But in her arms, he was once again strong and healthy. She laughed as he swept her into his arms. "How about it, Smallville? Fly me to the moon one more time?"

"For you, Lois? Any time," he said as he lifted them into the sky. The lights of the city were spread out below them, but neither had eyes for anything but each other. Wrapping her arms around Clark's neck, Lois kissed him as they flew high into the air.

At their wedding, Lois and Clark had vowed to love each other 'til death did they part, but even as he'd died in her arms, Clark had wept, saying her that one lifetime wasn't nearly long enough. So she'd pressed her lips against his and reminded him that theirs wasn't an ordinary love. A love like theirs, she'd said, survived death. She swore that she would love him forever.

And she would, as he would love her. Their bodies lasted a lifetime, their reputations would be legendary, and their love would last an eternity and beyond.


End file.
